Domestic Love
by g1
Summary: Reno x Yuffie; short, off-beat takes on their relationship
1. let's pretend

I -- Let's Pretend  
  
Ivory white and sky black, he had her until the summer came. Summer was a staple of Midgar and the humid slums, desperate knives and bullets wasted on its citizens. His life was devoted to the metallic pizza and the greed that came with such practical ordeals; there was aught time to be idle. Evenings were left for the melancholic alcohol with Shinra's degrading workers, and it gnawed at him with the pressure of an ill omen subsiding in the promised hangover.  
  
He'd come for restraint midst an unfinished task. Elena had thrown her designer shoes half in the trail, and Rude was off to his own duties; the coast was not clear and tranquil as he'd hoped, but for Reno it had never been. Tseng's witty excuses served him right in such occasions, but all their lies were much more permanent at the end of the month when nothing was accomplished.  
  
"I didn't suspect you'd be coming back," a voice which hadn't fully developed pushed from a face veiled by synchronized shadow, "not so soon."  
  
"I told you I would come," a mutter; a slit of sun exposed her breasts as she came to him, undressing, "didn't I?"  
  
Her defined lips formed a slight frown, and she pulled under the paper of satin sheets, catching a glimpse of her shapeless form in the mirror. No doubt he'd do as she'd allowed none other: leave her to the consort of a hot memory. His crimson hair appeared synthetic on her innocently cream pillows; he was the only one who'd the permission to wrinkle them.  
  
"I've learned to not rely on anyone relating to Shinra," she sounded, "You act as though I'm your wife, waltzing in here as if you own me." On top of her, her back arched in lordly composure. His roughed fingers spread on the little of her spine, seeming nearly brutal.  
  
"I haven't owned anything my entire life, heh, damned if I ever do," he spoke through a hiss, her round fingernails forming tents on his skin, "But for now, we'll just pretend." 


	2. misguided cupid

II -- misguided cupid  
  
He saw her first: her curves sculpted through an empty bottle of vodka as he'd held it in salutation. In a night induced by alcohol, he hadn't to conclude the frown crossing her lips wasn't one of irritation. Immature and relatively petite in her years, he had laid eyes upon Yuffie Kisaragi: capable of robbing and luring thousands, but a man's true interest caused her still to blush.  
  
Men desired her either sprawled in jail or bed; she could single them out as they examined over her as an exotic animal, the subject of gossip in everyone's mouths. Old wives would often start dry comments, though most of it had washed down till it reached her ears. This wasn't because she was particularly good at her profession, Reno came to learn, but for she happened to be Godo's offspring.  
  
His own mother had been a whore, his father an anonymous, so the burden and responsibilities a last name could add were incomprehensible to him. To him, that moment through that single bottle of vodka, she was scrawny girl in a night he was crawling out of his skin. No consequences to consider; his shadowy companions hadn't followed him this time, he had told the bartender.  
  
"But get me another drink," Whilst listening to fractions of different conversations, "Nothing to knock me out; keep in mind I'm a professional," and to this the men stormed in laughter.  
Yuffie was, in every sense of the word, a child. Pampered and avoiding society's many regulations of common sense, it was a mere game and she enjoyed the ride. Her father would naturally bail her of any situation; homebase was her hometown, which she strived to revive. Reno hadn't been aware an underage ninja roamed his surroundings, most especially not when it usually contained SOLDIER drunks and run-down prostitutes.  
  
She came forth him with a flair of dizziness, her thin legs pale due to the harsh weather conditions, "Hi, you," her breath was pure vodka, and the hint of strawberries, "I've never seen you," she pinched him, "Maybe you're a big bad Turk that's come to take me away!"  
  
Yuffie supported her frame on the counter behind him, bringing her lips and eyes close to his. In a drunk's perspective, nothing spins but rather it's a haze over the many colors you manage to perceive: red and green, hints of navy blue and the stench of metal. Obvious residents were beginning to glance behind their shoulders, the heed Reno hadn't come for.  
  
"Just relax, will you?" He said positioning her on the chair to his sides, "You've gone sharp ends on you, should've disposed them before you got so fuckin' wasted." His lit a wide cigarette and dragged it like an elder searching for oxygen, "You're probably cut for Shinra, you know, with all that gear and fake identities; definitely the sort of material I'm hired to scout," but before Reno could finish, the girl had fallen to his shoulder.  
  
"Ummh...?" A trail of drool came down her chin; her being nearly featherweight, the fed-up Turk carried this still anonymous nuisance out the bar's door, and to the balcony where the sun was beginning to rise over the Wutai mountains.  
  
She wore an oversized button-down shirt, which he could notice didn't belong to her. She smiled, her legs dangling from side to side, the sounds from her mouth indicating she would puke any given second, over all his refined clothes.  
  
"You're so young," he commented under his breath, "That's probably why you can't hold in your alcohol. Being so puny and driven doesn't help, you know," his cigarette nearly slipped off his gritted teeth. It was an icy night.  
  
But to this she kicked him, and pushed away, her eyes startled, "I don't need anyone to take care of this /little girl/," she had pieces of his materia locked in both hands, which still seemed not to support them, "Later!"  
  
"Fuckin' thief!" Reno began to reach for her, contemplating whether or not he should run in this state, but she was miles away, as well as on top of a roof. 


	3. hangover

III -- hangover  
  
I /know/ you don't love me, Yuffie repeated in her mind as his hands violated her. His practiced tongue wandered, and she couldn't help imagining her stripped of dignity to all the eluded whores who'd felt the same fascination towards him. I /know/ this is simple sex working through your mind; and I know this is your lunchbreak, not a cropped plan to come visit me.  
  
And however she hated his hypocrisy sliding wet against her, she wondered what would require of her to become something real in his eyes. Something he'd appreciate and cherish; and of course she would return the affection, for she had lacked so much of it as an infant. She wondered many things about Reno; whoever had him figured would be his true love, and she was but a pebble he'd collected along the path.  
  
He was standing forth the window, his bare back seen from the spacious bed. Reno smoked more than the usual health lines would suggest, and as was common he stood puffing, ignoring anyone else's presence. He was the typical Midgar ex-hoodlum, in which certain traits could never be corrected.  
  
Yuffie scoured the floor for given clothes and concluded with a thin sheet that had been tossed midst his taunting. Wrapping it around herself low on her breasts, she hesitantly walked over to him. She hurt inside, despite how many times before he'd done this to her.  
  
"You have to go, huh?" Wiping a slick line of sweat from the side of her forehead, "Better not anger Mr. Shinra; you must adore your job to do that bullshit day in and out."  
  
He tossed the half-smoked cigarette out the window, landing on a fresh tulip, "I don't /adore/ nothing about my job safe for the payment. As far as I'm concerned, /Mr. Shinra/ can shove Midgar up his ass; which is just what he's doing, if you want to follow an analogy."  
  
Yuffie liked to fancy the fact they were such a nuisance to one another was for the two were constantly short-tempered and bothered; there was no time for nonsense, therefore subjects and grudges welled up inside them both until their occasional meetings. Perhaps Reno's hastiness was his measure of screaming his life's complications, while she just kept quiet.  
  
She felt unsafe as a woman, pondering things more than she should.  
  
"I can't imagine you being anything else than a Turk," said she, for now he'd his full uniform on, tying the ends of his shoelaces, "You fit the part."  
  
"Then I suppose I should act the part," he said throwing the nightstick over his shoulder, "Later," and with a delicate kiss on her forehead, he walked off. 


	4. enough to understand

III - enough to understand  
  
Yuffie would (often) have an outburst of womanly fits as he made his path for the door those certain afternoons. Her naturally pale face would turn shades of what he could determine as vermilion, and she would shout, "I just don't get you!" And Reno would be left without a response and no opposition to offer.  
  
With Rude it was different, a budding friendship which flowed as harmonious as alcohol penetrated his system. Rude had come from a low Midgar Sector and, although he hid it all beneath the dark shades and calm exterior, had endured more than any psychiatrist would dare to skim over. Rude /understood/ what it was, the sensation of waking among silverfish and hunting for food, the sense of instinct that if you didn't steal and survive then the world would backstab you like an ill enemy. For that's just what the world was; true friends and the kindness of others was too dubious a philosophy.  
  
Reno knew murder and orders were his job; women had too little value, his mother had proved that bit; and hangovers were enough a reminder of life to result in painful mornings. Midst it all, the word love made him uncomfortable.  
  
The same didn't apply to her. Yuffie grew with a silverspoon in her mouth, though she had rejected the luxury by spitting it to the ground or making use of it as a weapon.  
  
"What don't you get?" said Reno, his eyes sharp, "I have a job, and things to do. Don't /you/?"  
  
"Yes, but that doesn't matter," Yuffie would blurt, unsure herself of what she meant.  
  
"What doesn't?" his brows furred, "Listen, Princess, you have the option of losing everything you've ever worked for and still come home to a hot plate. Not everyone is so fortunate, have you ever stopped to look around?" his hand cold on the door handle, "Life is /really/ overrated."  
  
As he trailed with his nightstick to the outskirts of Wutai in search of his fellow Turks, he found its many bars and tourist attractions much more interesting. Once in a while he'd fancy back on Yuffie and feel a sudden ready guilt, that perhaps he'd unknowingly and unintentionally made her cry. Women, he noted, spent half their lives weeping if certain things didn't flow as they'd expected.  
  
But he hated tears.  
  
Reno could stand the gushing of blood and hopeless pleas, but not tears; imagining Yuffie's face smeared with them left him more uneasy and uncomfortable in his own skin. Rude had cried, once. Elena, many times, practically each night in their hotels. Reno imagined Tseng was incapable of such human reactions, so he didn't give it much thought.  
  
A whore had positioned herself on his lap at the bar, her hysterical laughter fixing every men's attention. He had dismissed her with a handful of gil and a, "Not tonight, sweetheart," with a brush on her hip which made her slip backwards. Wutai had once been a city rich in its history, full of glory and pride, Reno mused as he examined over the details on the counter tables. But day by day it lost its incantation and soon the citizens wouldn't realize it ever existed. Perhaps that was why she wouldn't give it up.  
  
He chose a bench overlooking the mountains, which were more as ruins caved in after hundreds of years. Bars were too intoxicating, and the hotel room he shared with Elena and Rude didn't seem welcoming. "Night's almost done," he murmured. The sun was transposing oblique rays of sunlight  
  
"It sure is," a tiny voice came behind him, as if it had just wept one thousand tears.  
  
"You must really love Wutai," Reno said lowly, an usual cigarette dangling at the edge of his lips.  
  
"Of course I do!" Yuffie said eagerly, "It's my hometown, and it's all I've ever known. I wasn't taught anything else than to adore it, and so I grew with a driven notion that I had no choice but to support it."  
  
Reno sighed, smoked, and didn't respond for several minutes; a small morning breeze passed through them, gently running through their faces.  
  
"You know, in Midgar there's none of that stuff," he explained, "We just pile up metal and call it a home, and steal to eat most of the time; I had a buddy who knew the original names of the Sectors, but it was a long time ago he told me and I don't remember. I think he was the only one I ever met who knew," he continued, "but he was killed, another lost krill to the city. And the things those whores do, it'll make your head spin, you can never respect a woman again; guns were part of life, and decent materia was hard to come by, if not too expensive, and the sellers would be shot for it."  
  
...Then he stopped, having spoken too much. No need to dwell on the past, no need to tell her things she wouldn't want to know.  
  
"It explains a lot," said she, "Having no pride to protect is pathetic."  
  
"I'm my own pride," said he, "I'm still alive. You don't understand the meaning of this, but I'm still alive."  
  
Her eyes welled up again, and he turned away to avoid them, "You're right, I don't understand," Yuffie stated, "But there's a lot about you I don't understand."  
  
And she blew a kiss, touching her fingers delicately on his forehead, that night to be forgotten to the next time they met. 


	5. i love you

end - i love you  
  
"You're going back to Midgar?" Yuffie questioned, "So soon?"  
  
"Elena and Rude've ditched me," he responded, "Tseng sticks around Wutai for his so righteous rituals, despite it being a coverup for our saint-like Turk image."  
  
/Saint?/  
  
Her violet eyes focused hard on him as if attempting to drill a hole through his conscious, or the sorts of flawed hypnosis girlchildren were often taught to believe. Rubbish.  
  
Reno didn't -- couldn't -- meet her gaze, for then he'd see a person apart from the female features he'd noted so: this practical and so natural eye- contact morphed Yuffie into something ethereal in blood and flesh, and he couldn't ever handle those sorts of commitments. It was the insecurity of his entire history written is his eyes, and then an open book; he'd only experienced drunks, vagrants and machines in his newborn lifetime.  
  
Yuffie couldn't become real, nothing was.  
  
"Do you have a good-luck charm?" Yuffie asked, "Mine is the materia I stole from you the night we met. Maybe you should take some back for good luck, you can never have enough of that. Right?" Her voice was hopelessly tiny.  
  
"Lesson one on being a thief," Reno gave up half through his wrinkled tie, "don't /ever/ return what rightfully belongs to you; consider me the victim, the fool." And she paused from a moment to hesitate, hands sandwiched between her thighs like a child lost in her own lies, "I don't need luck, thanks," he continued.  
  
She hadn't paid him heed, for the first period in such a while; her fancies couldn't wash over his fixation, the rising stench of cigarettes damped her bedsheets as a reminder, and his entire character was warm but shut-out. She /needed/ him, and hadn't to let emotions and proper etiquette interfere; in the end there was little she could handle to keep him from coming and going. And she realized this was infatuation working in her mind, a glamour of adventurous rebellion against all she'd ever known.  
  
Reno had always been real, in her foggy perspective.  
  
"I'm really happy you came to see me," Yuffie blurted, "you know."  
  
"I know," Reno said, his tone trailing into something unsure, almost confused, "I... erm," his hands ruffled in his crimson strands, "I'll come back? And maybe get in touch beforehand; Tseng will take care of everything now, work's done and all."  
  
And so the frustrated phrase, /I love you/, no longer possessed the value of once when they had both been too lost in the vortex of alcohol to remember. They stood in unbroken silence, just their breaths and mountainbirds to shatter it, both examining the elaborate floorstitches. Never once meeting one another's vacuous eyes.  
  
He made the move. Reno gave her a kiss on the forehead, one soft on the lips, and she sighed. The untamed ninja he'd first seen was now recollected, and still less mature, unable to understand love was too abstract to behold.  
  
"Princess," he said, glaring down her rosy cheeks, "heh," fingers sliding through her unthinkably thin black hair.  
  
"Take care," she shouted him off his trail, waking the entire town. 


End file.
